Stacy Horn

I notice that people who search on “dental implants” sometimes find their way to my blog because I was posting about my own implant process so much for a time. I don’t know how typical my case is, but basically everything the dentists tried to do didn’t work so I’m not getting an implant after all, and instead I’m getting a bridge.

Quick backstory: A childhood mishap with my brothers when I was 9 led to me breaking one of my front teeth and getting a cap. I’ve been slowly losing bone in that tooth over the years and a couple of years ago they pulled that tooth and the one next two it. The plan was to get an implant and a fake tooth anchored to that, but I needed more bone in that spot, something to drill the implant into. I had a bone graft, it failed. I had another bone graft, that failed. I had gum surgery, that mostly failed.

They were suggesting another gum surgery when I cried, “That’s it. No more. I give up.” They agreed with my decision, it turns out. So, next week they start work on the bridge.

Not a very interesting story, I know. Here is a cottage in Fort Tryon Park. It’s lovely, but the downside is that it’s at the edge of a public park so you’d have people like me gawking all the time.

Avonte Oquendo, a 14-year-old boy with autism, has been missing from Queens since October 4th. When I went to Fort Tryon park last week I don’t remember seeing missing signs. But when I went on Monday they were everywhere, and I mean everywhere. Except not here in my neighborhood, I just realized. I wonder why that is?

Yesterday I went back up to the Cloisters and Fort Tryon Park to double-check a few things about Janet Cardiff’s Forty Part Motet Installation. Before heading uptown I talked to my friend Chris, who told me her mother grew up near the park and about all the times she’d visited it growing up.

She talked about the stairs all over the park, many of which are much more steep than the ones in this picture. I like these though, because they seem to lead to someplace magical. I kept being lured up by one staircase after another, often getting turned around and a little lost. But the park is basically a circle going around the Cloisters, so you can only get so lost.

Chris has a picture of her mom as a young woman, standing by one of the many lamp posts in the park. I hope she sends me a copy!

I should go see Gravity! And eat a cream puff! And, and, pet a cat!

Below: fashion. That reminds me, I am so sad What Not to Wear is going off the air. Off the air! That has no meaning in NYC, where we are all digital. There is no air involved. Soon, it will have no meaning anywhere. Anyway, I keep hoping someone will nominate me to be on the show so I can have all my fashion woes fixed, but now, that will never happen. SOB.

This painting/sign was in the garbage in front of my building. What does it say? Pigs enslav [sic] us? This is flipped 90 degrees, by the way. Those garbage cans should be on the bottom. And what’s that a picture of? Some sort of nacho/lucha libre thing? Or am I just being an old person and this is completely obvious?